Secrets of the Night
by Swallow in the Cloud
Summary: When the BAU is called in for a series of gruesome, unexplainable murders close to home, a member's past connection with one of the Winchester brothers might be the key to solving this case or be the end of the team.
1. Gruesome Murders

Supernatural X Criminal Minds

**Author's Note:**AU after Supernatural episode "Bedtime Stories" in Season 3 and Criminal Minds episode "7 Seconds" in Season 3. It will include the beginning of Supernatural episode "Red Sky at Morning" and Criminal Minds episode "About Face," though in a different context. David Rossi is also a member of the current BAU team, returning three episodes ago in "Scared to Death" instead of in "About Face."

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any aspects of Criminal Minds or Supernatural. All copyrights go to their respective companies and entities. All OCs, thoughts, and musings, when not quoted, are mine though.

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**Chapter 1**  
_**Then:**_

_**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. November 10, 2002**_

"I love you, Jen." Already she could tell that she would not like what was coming next. He only ever called her "Jen" when it was something serious, knowing that she hated the name.

"I love you," he said again. "Much more than I thought I would, much more than I thought possible," he breathed as he held her close. Maybe for the last time, he thought grimly. He knew she could hear him; she had been awake for a while, tracing figure eights on his chest.

The two of them were in her room again, and he loved it there. It didn't matter to him that her room was covered with soccer posters and butterfly paintings, that there was a dart board hanging on the back of her door, that it was one of the strangest female rooms he had ever been in. He loved it all because he loved her and because her room was one of the few places that offered him a sense of stability he secretly craved for, but dared not pursue.

He had been surprised the first time he had seen the pictures of them together framed and displayed on her drawers for all to see, but now he couldn't imagine her room without them. He cherished these morning moments the most, with the two of them just lying in bed together, bathing in each other's company. With his earlier thoughts in mind, he pulled her even closer, savouring her presence and every little second they have together.

She knew what was going to come next. The two of them had never meant for it to get so serious so fast when they first started seeing each other, but it was inevitable the more time they spent together. She knew that with what he did for a living, his duty, what they had would not last, but she could not bring herself to regret any minute of the time they spent together. She wanted to stop what was coming, or at least tried to hold on to their moment a little longer. "De –"she started, but was quickly interrupted by him.

"No, stop," he cut in; his chest vibrating beneath her, tickling her. "Just let me finish."

She didn't want to because it would mean that they would be finished soon, but she stopped herself anyway. She didn't want to argue with him, not when she knew they had so little time left together.

"Jen," he began again as he toyed with strands of her honey-golden hair. "I love you. I really do, and that's why I need to leave. What I do..." he stopped and started again. "With my family business, I've made a lot of enemies, dangerous enemies. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if one of them found out about you and came after you to get back at me. If I were the reason you got hurt ..." he left the thought hanging, afraid that if he finished it, he might jinxed them.

He didn't need to; she knew all too well what could happen if one of the monsters he fought found out about her connection to him. That was how they met anyway, him saving her from ...what was it that he called the creature again? A Wendigo? Anyway, it was more two years ago when... She quickly pushed the haunted thoughts out of her mind before the memories could assault her. Focusing back to the present, she replied, "I know. I understand why you think you have to leave, but stay, please. I can handle them."

"Maybe, but I won't risk it," he stated with a sense of finality. "I rather you stay out of the supernatural world. I'm leaving, and that's that," he declared as he moved to get up.

Sensing that any argument would be fruitless, she moved to follow her lover. "Alright. Fine," she gave in. "I know you have to leave, but let me have today. Let us have today." His resolve melted as she captured his lips in hers.

When she woke up the next morning, the space beside her was empty, and she knew that he was gone from her life, possibly forever.

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_**Now:**_

_**Dumfries, Virginia. October 27, 2007**_

Jenna Tomson was the kind of girl who believed that everything happened for a reason so when she found herself in her current predicament, it was safe to say that her belief system was completely shattered. Bounded and gagged to a standard wooden chair, Jenna tried to block out the screams and pleas of the man being tortured in front of her. Letting out a whimper, she didn't how much longer she could endure the psychological torture she knew her captors were doing to her.

As if they could read her thoughts, one of demented monsters walked toward her. Leaning down to wipe away the tears that were trailing down her cheeks, her torturer said with a chuckle, "Don't worry, sweetie. It'll be your turn soon. No need to get impatient."

Jenna couldn't take it anymore after that. She screamed and cried and struggled against her bonds like her life depended on it. Her futile efforts only served to amuse her captor even more as he patted her cheek again, leaving blood sticking to her face and clinging to strands of her honey-golden hair.

Satisfied with his work, the demented man turned to join his partner in carving up what was left of their male victim. Aside from the laughter and screams of pleasure every time either one of their victims cries or screams from pain, the pair continued filleted their unfortunate subject in silence.

At last, as if bored, the leader of the pair wiped the blood from her face as she turned to set the carving knife that she was using back in the tray of torture instruments at the foot of the blood-stained metal bed. "Enough," she commanded, speaking for the first time since Jenna's abduction. "Get rid of this useless meat suit. We'll start on the other one first thing tomorrow." Her tone remained light and eager even as the object of her statement struggled and screamed against her bonds.

At the instruction, the latter of the pair set about dumping what was left of their plaything into two large, black trash bags before heading out the door, stopping once to run his blood-stained hand through Jenna's golden hair again. Earning a shudder and some more struggles from the poor girl for his troubles, the immoral man laughed with pleasure as he left the room.

Amused by her partner's antics, the raven-haired woman, not to be outdone, stalked toward her scared stiff audience. Catching a few strands of her prey's hair, she chuckled, "I can see why he likes running his hands through your hair so much. Smooth as silk the thing is." Grasping Jenna's tear-stricken face firmly in her hand when the girl had tried to move away, the dark-haired torturer cooed, "Don't worry. We'll try to be gentle." Laughing, she straightened up to leave, but not before ripping away, none too gently, the duct tape that was keeping her victim silent. As screams of agony filled the dark, dungeon-like room, the demented woman strolled away, cackling while she thought of all the fun she would have with the female human the following morning.

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_**Quantico, Virginia. October 30, 2007.**_

No one can say that the FBI lacked spirit after seeing the BAU bullpen on the Eve of Halloween. There were plastic Jack-O-Lanterns on every desks; each wearing the classic grin. There were orange and black streamers hanging off doors and stairs, and decorative masks, some black and white, some solid red, lying on file cabinets and desks.

To add to this festive atmosphere, Dr. Spencer Reid, residential genius of the renowned BAU, limped in, decked out in costumes, unknown to his teammates, Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss, as he sneaked up behind them. With a mask of Frankenstein and a noose around his neck, Reid quietly crept up behind Morgan who was busy reading one of the many case files on his desk. "Grr. Grr. I'm going to eat you," Reid growled as he leaned close.

Morgan turned around at the sound of his colleague's voice before he quickly pulled back, obviously startled by Reid's close proximity and headwear, earning a chuckle from Prentiss, who despite Reid's best effort to be stealthy, had indeed notice him the moment he hobbled in. "Reid," Morgan exclaimed, annoyance colored his voice.

Reid ignored Morgan's displeasure as he moved to his desk in front of the pair. He nonchalantly greeted the two with a smile, "Happy All Hallow's Eve, folks." As he took off the Frankenstein mask and the noose, he continued excitedly, "It's a paraphrase from Celtic mythology. Tomorrow night all order is suspended, and the barriers between the natural and the supernatural are temporally remooooved!" Prentiss laughed again as Reid playfully tossed her a full-faced monster mask with shrunken teeth from the large, brown paper bag he was carrying.

"See, that right there is why Halloween creep me out," Morgan pointed out before turning back to his reading.

"You're scared of Halloween?" Reid questioned, somewhat surprised that the ever fearless agent could be afraid of something.

"I didn't say I was scared," Morgan denied, all too quickly. "I said I was crept out. There's a difference there, youngster. You should look it up," he said, hoping to get Reid off his back.

Oblivious to his friend's discomfort, Reid questioned, "What creeps you out about it?" He couldn't really get why Morgan wouldn't like Halloween, a fun and sugary-sweet holiday.

Seeing that he was going to be a part of this conversation for the long run, Morgan closed the file he was trying to read and tossed it back on his desk while Prentiss rolled her chair closer, curious to hear Morgan's answer. "I don't know," Morgan started. "People wearing masks. I just don't like folks in disguises," he stated.

"It's the best thing about Halloween!" Reid exclaimed as he looked at Prentiss, surprised by Morgan's lack of love for the amusing holiday. "You can to be anyone you want to be!" Reid remarked as he tossed Morgan a piece of candy from his stash.

"Nan. I'm pretty good just being me," stated Morgan as he popped the piece of candy Reid gave him in his mouth.

Amused by her teammates, Prentiss interjected, " Yeah. Why is it that neither of those points of views surprises me?"

"You know what though?" Morgan began, clearly enjoying this conversation now that no one thought he was scared of Halloween anymore. "On the flip side, it does provide a pretty good reason to cozy up with a scary flick and a little Halloween honey," he revealed as he clicked his tongue and winked at Prentiss.

"Eww," said Prentiss, disturbed and definitely regretting egging Morgan on. "And Halloween honey? That's n - Now I'm crept out."

"What creeps you out?" questioned a new voice from behind Prentiss and Morgan.

"Rossi!" greeted Reid as the newest member of the team, David Rossi, moved to stand next to him.

"Hey," chorused Prentiss and Morgan. "We're just discussing Morgan's idea of a perfect Halloween," Prentiss replied to the older man's question from earlier. "What's your idea of perfect Halloween night, Rossi?" she asked, curious.

"Well," started Rossi, "I think it's a perfect time to cozy up with a scary flick and a little Halloween honey." Seeing the disturbed and somewhat disgusted look on Prentiss's face as soon as he said those words, Rossi let out the chuckles he had been holding in since he had walked in the BAU earlier and caught the end of his teammates' conversation.

"Not you too!" Prentiss exclaimed the same time Reid asked "Wait, seriously?"

"Sorry," replied Rossi, "I just couldn't resist! Although, Morgan, while I do think that is a good idea, I happen to like hosting masquerade balls much better. In fact," Rossi continued, "I'm hosting one this year, and you are all invited, of course."

A smile appeared on Prentiss's face as she traded a glance with Morgan. "Cool," replied the latter, "when's the party?"

"You know, masquerade balls were extended into costumed public festivities in Italy during the 16th century Renaissance. They were generally elaborate dances held for members of the upper classes, and were particularly popular in Venice," commented Reid.

Turning to his genius of a teammate, Rossi stared at Reid for a moment before he replied, "Thank you, Reid."

Seeing Rossi's response, Morgan gave a chuckle and popped another piece of candy in his mouth. "You'll get use to that," assured Prentiss with a smile.

"Riiight," was all Rossi could say before Hotch's voice was heard, calling to his team. "Guys, JJ has a case for us," said the Unit Chief as he moved from his office to the briefing room, stopping at the threshold to wait for the rest of his team.

"Coming," replied Reid as the four headed up to the briefing room. They were greeted as they entered the room with the sight to their chief Aaron Hotchner sitting at the head of the table with JJ at the opposite end.

"Hey guys," greeted Jennifer Jareau, the team's Communications Liaison. "We've caught a bad one." The furrows of her brows and the frown on her face only added to the upset heard in her voice. As she turned to the screen behind her, the rest of the team moved to sit around the wooden oval table.

"Oh my God," gasped Prentiss in horror as she leafed through the case file in front of her. Even Morgan, Reid, and Rossi were unable to keep the looks of horror and disgust from showing on their faces as they looked at their files. Hotch's grim visage was enough for Prentiss to know that he too had seen the monstrosities in the manila folders.

"All the wounds and dismemberments appeared to have happened antemortem," Reid choked out.

"There has been a series of unexplained gruesome murders in Dumfries, Virginia," started JJ. "Trey Baxter, 29, went missing from his apartment on October 21. No sign of forced entries." A photo of a fairly handsome white male with green eyes and short-cropped, dark brunette hair appeared on the screen behind her. "Three days later, two large, black trash bags with Trey Baxter's name taped to them appeared in his apartment, which was taped off as a crime scene, by the way. No witnesses and again, no sign of forced entries. Inside those bags were the remains of Trey Baxter." Another photo appeared on the screen, this time of two bloody trash bags that contained the remains of the smiling young man; each had a piece of white printer paper attached to it with the victim's name written in blood.

"Now, given the state of the remains, identification was only possible because the Unsub appears to want us to know who the remains belong to. Aside from the name tags, there was only one perfect finger on top of the bags, and it matches the victim's prints," Hotch continued.

"It says here that his name was written by the second victim, Lauren Abbott." Morgan spoke from his seat at Hotch's left side.

"Yes," answered JJ. "Local PD was able to get a print off of the bloody writing. They thought they'd caught a break until it came back as Lauren Abbott, 24." A photo a young blonde came up on the screen. "Now, at first local PD thought that maybe she wasn't a victim after all since she did disappear from her locked apartment where there were no signs of forced entries on October 23, a day before Trey Baxter's remains were found. However, that idea was quickly disregarded when two trash bags containing Lauren Abbott's remains appeared on the 26th." Again a photo with two bloody trash bags, each had a piece of white printer paper attached to it with the victim's name written in blood, appeared on the screen behind JJ.

"And again, identification was only possible because of the name tags and the finger?" asked Rossi from Hotch's right.

"Apparently that's the Unsub's MO, along with no signs of forced entries and the name tags being written in blood by the next victim," Hotch replied.

"Victim #3 is Blake Martin, 27," read Reid from his seat next to Morgan. A photo of a fairly handsome white male with brown eyes and short-cropped, brunette hair popped up in the screen. "Disappeared from his apartment on October 25; again no signs of forced entries. Only this time, his roommate Hunter Bradley, 28, was killed in his sleep, throat slit, bled to death, when Blake Martin was taken." A picture of a white male with shaggy blonde hair appeared next to that of his roommate followed by a photo of him the night of the murder. There was blood everywhere; his throat slit deep enough that parts of his trachea were visible.

"Whoever this Unsub is, he has no qualm against collateral damage, even if it doesn't threaten his chance of taking a victim," commented Prentiss next to Rossi. "Hunter Bradley was killed simply because he was there. This Unsub is sadistic. He didn't just quickly end Hunter Bradley's life; he left his victim there to bleed to death while he kidnapped Blake Martin."

"Dumfries PD invited us in because of the gruesomeness of these murders, but also because aside from having no lead on the Unsub, they have no idea how he is able to get into secured locations undetected. Blake Martin's and Hunter Bradley's apartment was an active crime scene, yet somehow the Unsub was able to return three days later undetected to leave behind the remains of Blake Martin." JJ brought up once more of a photo with two bloody trash bags; this time with Blake Martin's name on them.

"Bloody prints on them belong to Jenna Tomson, 25." A picture of a beautiful girl with honey-golden blonde hair appeared on the screen. "She was taken from her apartment on October 27. No signs of forced entries. Nothing seemed out of place. Her remains were found this morning by Dumfries PD." Once again a photo of two bloody trash bags appeared on the screen following JJ's statement.

"Jenna Tomson's name was written by Robert Jackson, 28, reported missing from his house yesterday following the death of his wife, Elizabeth Jackson, 27." A portrait of a fair young woman with hair the color of deep burgundy and golden-brown eyes, smiling as she hugged a fairly handsome Caucasian male with short-cropped light brunette hair and hazel eyes appeared on the screen. "Elizabeth Jackson was killed the same way Hunter Bradley was. Throat slit and left to bleed to death while her husband was taken."

A photo of the same carefree woman from before appeared on the screen, except this time, she was lying in a bloody bed. Her white silk nightgown riddled with blood spatters. Her cheerful golden-brown eyes from before now dulled and dead stared aimlessly at the ceiling. The beautifully, horrid blood-red ribbon at her neck was only ruined by the whites of her trachea.

"Whoever did this is pure evil," said Rossi, the disgust and anger in his voice were evident for all to hear.

"That's six bodies in the space of nine days, not counting the missing Robert Jackson," said Morgan. "Why weren't we called in earlier?" he asked, frustrated.

"The first two cases Dumfries PD didn't think were connected because of change in gender of the victims. Their lab also took a while to match the bloody prints to the following victims. The murders of the roommate and the wife were also unexpected so by the time they called us, number of body counts grew," explained Hotch. "Now, look. I know this is bad."

"Now that's an understatement," inputted Prentiss.

"And it is close to home," continued Hotch. "But we have to keep a clear head going into this. We will handle this like we do any other cases. We look at the crime scenes, the dumpsites, the remains, the victimology, and we build a profile. We will catch this Unsub." Hotch's tone indicated that there would be no discussion about that. They would catch this Unsub no matter what.

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**

**AN:** So guys, what do you think? This is my first Supernatural X Criminal Minds crossover and my first multi-chapter story so any reviews, comments, and criticisms are welcomed. I DO NOT accept flames however. If you flame, then that means you hate the story, so what on earth would you bother to waste your time reading something you hate in the first place?

Other than that, thank you all for reading this! :)


	2. And So It Begins

**Author's Note: AU after Supernatural episode "Bedtime Stories" in Season 3 and Criminal Minds episode "7 Seconds" in Season 3. It will include the beginning of Supernatural episode "Red Sky at Morning" and Criminal Minds episode "About Face," though in a different context. David Rossi is also a member of the current BAU team, returning three episodes ago in "Scared to Death" instead of in "About Face."**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspects of Criminal Minds or Supernatural. All copyrights go to their respective companies and entities. All OCs, thoughts, and musings, when not quoted, are mine though.

**xxxxxxxxxx  
**

**Chapter 2**  
_**Now:**_

_**9: 00 A.M. Dumfries, Virginia. October 30, 2007.**_

Since the drive to Dumfries' Police Department had only taken twelve minutes, taking the jet would have been a waste of time, time that they didn't have. Prentiss could see that Dumfries' Chief and Captain were trying to keep a brave face as they made introduction, but she knew that the last nine days must have been hell for them. The case frustrated and scared her, and she only just known about it this morning. She was taken out of her musing as JJ introduced the team.

"Chief Forker, Captain Wards, I'm Agent Jennifer Jareau, Communications Liaison. You can call me JJ. We spoke earlier on the phone," said JJ as she shook hands with the Chief and the Captain. Turning to her team, she continued, "This is our Unit Chief, Senior Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, SSA David Rossi, SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Emily Prentiss, and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"If it is alright with you, Agent Prentiss and I would like to visit the crime scenes," said Morgan all business-like. "And if you could show Agent Rossi and Dr. Reid to where you kept the remains, it would be much appreciated."

"Of course," replied Chief Forker, "anything you need. Thank you so much for coming."

"No need to thank us; it's what we do," assured JJ. _Because really, I should have caught this case earlier, even if we weren't invited in yet_, she thought. It was her fault that the team just found out about it today. It was her job to keep an eye out for things like this. Dumfries was practically in their backyard, and she couldn't even keep it safe.

So deep was she in her thoughts that JJ missed Hotch's request for the victims' files, a whiteboard, and a place to set up their command center. She didn't even notice it when Chief Forker left with Prentiss and Morgan to the victims' homes or when Captain Wards led Reid and Rossi to the morgue. JJ didn't even hear Hotch the first he asked her to help him set up the command center.

"JJ," Hotch repeated.

"Hmm?" she replied at last as she turned to face him. "Sorry, I was just, you know, thinking."

As if he had read her mind, Hotch said, "JJ, it's not your fault. We had other cases. We were busy in Denver and Woodbridge before we caught this case."

"And on the way back from Woodbridge, we passed by Dumfries, Hotch. If I had known then, we would have been here five days earlier. We could have saved Blake Martin, Hunter Bradley, Jenna Tomson, and Elizabeth and Robert Jackson." Grief and regret were evident in her voice.

"We could still save Robert Jackson." He felt her pain, and it cut him deeply, but they couldn't afford to worry about the "what-ifs" with so many dead and possibly more coming.

"What are the chances he's even still alive, Hotch?" JJ exclaimed. "You saw what happened to the others. Robert Jackson is probably already dead and in pieces. And it's all on me, Hotch, me. It's my job to be on the look-out for this sort of things and make sure we get there to help before it's too late." All those bloods were on her hands, and she was never going to be able to cleanse herself of them no matter how much good she did.

"I need you to calm down, JJ." Hotch's voice cut through her thoughts. "What happened has already happened. We can't change any of that. Sure, we could have arrived five days earlier, and Blake Martin, Hunter Bradley, Jenna Tomson, and Elizabeth Jackson could still have been killed. We can't worry about "what-ifs" right now, but we can start looking for whoever did this. And we will find this Unsub, JJ. We will." There so much determination and drive in his voice that JJ couldn't help but believe that they would succeed in stopping this Unsub.

Looking at her boss, she gave him a bleak smile. "Thanks, Hotch. I'll try to keep a clearer head on this case," JJ said as she set about helping him set up their command center in one of the empty conference rooms.

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

_**The Jacksons' Home**_

As they approached yellow crime scene tape in front of the creamy white house, Morgan wondered if maybe they would finally get lucky here and find some sort of clues that would lead them to the Unsub. The last four victims' apartments had been irritatingly spotless save for some sort of yellow powder near the doors and the bloody bedroom where Hunter Bradley was killed.

Searching around in the Jacksons' bedroom in vain looking for any sort of clues, Morgan turned to Prentiss, hoping she had better luck. Seeing Prentiss's expression that said otherwise, Morgan said at last, "Alright, so I'm the Unsub. How do I keep the husband under my control while I subdue and kill his wife, who unlike Hunter Bradley, was awake and put a fight?"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Prentiss turned to face Morgan. With her hands on her hips, she casted a searching look around the room before suggesting, "Umm...I don't. I would need a partner for that. My partner would keep Robert Jackson under control while I deal with the wife." Her voice cleared and her tone turned hopeful as she came to that realization.

"A team would explain the change in victimology and them getting around without anyone seeing. One to keep a lookout and the other to do the deed," chided Morgan, excited that they were finally making process with the case.

"Let's regroup and see what the rest of the team found. We're done here anyway," said Prentiss as she headed downstairs with Morgan right behind her.

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

_**Dumfries Morgue**_

"-Now if you gents could just follow me through here," called Captain Wards as she led Reid and Rossi through the double door into to the city's morgue.

Inside, the three were greeted by the sight a rotund middle-aged man with kind face and thinning hair in a white lab coat. He was standing next the body of a young woman with even-paler-than-normal skin and red-burgundy hair that had turned dull since her death. Seeing his visitors, the man turned to greet them. " G'd Morning, Captain Wards, gentlemen."

"Dr. Woody," acknowledged Captain Wards. Gesturing to two men behind her, she continued, "This is Agent Rossi and Dr Reid. Would you show them the remains?" Upon seeing the doctor's confirmation, she turned back to the two agents. "Now, if you could excuse me, I have to get back out there. See you gents later then. Dr. Woody." Nodding to each man, she disappeared through double door.

Turning to Rossi and Reid, Dr. Woody gave them a weak smile as he gestured to the four body bags and the one other body in the room. "There isn't much to show you for the remains of Trey Baxter, Lauren Abbott, Blake Martin, and Jenna Tomson. They are all in bits and pieces." Moving to unzip the nearest body bag next him, the doctor stepped back as Reid and Rossi took their turn to examine the bloody bits. "The most I can tell you," Woody continued, "is that most of the mutilations, dismemberments, and dissections occurred antemortem, while the victims were still alive. I'm sorry, agents, but given the state of the remains, there isn't much I can tell you."

Reid's face paled while Rossi puffed out a sigh of frustration. "Well, what can you tell us about the bodies of Hunter Bradley and Elizabeth Jackson?"

Moving to stand in the area between the two autopsy tables that held the remains of Hunter Bradley and Elizabeth Jackson, Woody began, "Unlike Elizabeth Jackson, the only wound on Hunter Bradley is the throat slit that killed him." The doctor paused to indicated the wound in question. "The carotid arteries and the trachea were severed in one swift cut."

"So whoever did this felt no reservation or hesitation?" asked Reid.

Woody nodded as he continued, " It's a practiced hand, swift and efficient."

"That means Hunter Bradley wasn't the first person the Unsub killed that way. There could be other victims out there killed the same way, with their throat slit wide open." _How many more victims of this Unsub have we missed_, wondered Rossi. "And Elizabeth Jackson?" He turned to indicate to the body on the other side of him.

"She had defensive wounds on both of her arms." Lifting first the lifeless woman's limp left arm and then her right, the doctor indicated to the black and blue bruises the covered her arms. "I was able to retrieve some skin from under her fingernails, but the only thing that came back was a match to her husband."

"Robert Jackson?" questioned Reid. "She fought her husband?"

"I don't know if that was who she fought, but that was the only foreign DNA I was able to retrieve. The throat slit that killed Elizabeth Jackson though was identical to that of Hunter Bradley. A single and efficient cut that show no sign of hesitation, severing the carotid arteries and the trachea."

Reid traded a glance with Rossi before he replied, "Thank you, Dr. Woody. I think that is all we need for now." He then turned to leave with Rossi right behind him after the older agent had too thank the doctor.

Falling into steps with his partner, Rossi asked, "So what are you thinking? That Robert Jackson might not be a victim after all?"

"Well, I don't know, Rossi," replied Reid as he put his hands in his pockets. Turning his face to Rossi, he continued, "If it was Robert, then he has to be some cruel monster because Elizabeth was his wife, and the knife wound showed no signs of hesitation. Plus, why kill her? She doesn't fit the profile of other female victims."

Twisting the ring on his right hand, Rossi thought for a moment before continuing, "You're right. She doesn't fit with the other female victims, but her husband does with the other male victims."

As the two exited into the sunlit parking lot, Reid commented, "Yeah, I think he was the intended target here, and Elizabeth Jackson was collateral damage just like Hunter Bradley."

**xxxxxxxxxxxx**

By the time the team had regrouped back at the station, it was high noon. Hotch and JJ had already filled up the whiteboard with pictures of the victims and of the crime scenes and any key information. Lunch in the form of take-outs were delivered by a young woman as the team gathered around their temporary round table.

The first pair up to share their findings so far was Hotch and JJ as everyone else got situated in their spots and with their meals. There wasn't much new information the two who had stayed behind at the station could offer since their victims had ran in different social circles and didn't know each other except for the two roommates. None of the victims had any prior criminal records except for a few speeding tickets here and there.

Rossi and Reid recounted their visit to the morgue next and gave their teammates an overview of the state of the remains. JJ and Prentiss paled as they heard just exactly how mutilated the remains of Trey Baxter, Lauren Abbott, Blake Martin, and Jenna Tomson were. Rossi and Reid also brought up the possibility of there being more victims who were killed the same way Hunter Bradley and Elizabeth Jackson were. That information was quickly relayed to their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, along with the request for her to run a nationwide search for possible victims. The two agents who had visited the morgue also told the team about presence of Robert Jackson's skin under his wife's fingernails as the only foreign DNA found on her, and while the idea that he was her attacker was dismissed due to the high likelihood that he too was a victim, the team kept that possibility in the back of their minds just in case.

Morgan and Prentiss were last to share their findings as they reported that the yellow powder found at each of the crime scenes came back as sulfur. The two also offered up their theory that they might be dealing with a team of Unsubs given the Unsub's previous need to subdue multiple victims at the same time. With that being one of their best lead so far aside from the possibility of earlier victims, the team set about continuing to learn more about the victims in Dumfries and to find out if there were any connections between them. They also prepared to interview the families and friends of the victims again later that afternoon.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_**11:30 P.M.**_

The humming of a car engine could be heard as a pair of headlights appeared on the deserted highway. Under the light of the waning gibbous moon, a black Chevy Impala made its way toward Dumfries, Virginia.

"So I've been waiting since Maple Springs. Got something to tell me?" Dean Winchester questioned as he turned to face his brother.

Looking up from the newspaper he was reading, Sam Winchester shifted in the passenger seat. "Umm... It's not your birthday?" he asked, confused.

Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, Dean answered with a clip, " No."

"Happy Purim? Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about," Sam feigned as he switched the flashlight he was holding to his right hand.

Dean clenched his teeth. "There's a bullet missing from the Colt," he stated, clearly aggravated. "Wanna tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me, so unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans –"

"Dean," Sam interrupted, not really wanting to have this conversation.

"You went after her, didn't you? The Crossroads Demon, after I told you not to." The needle in the Impala's speedometer edged up just a little bit closer to the 65mph marker, evidence of Dean's rising temper.

"Yeah, well," Sam replied nonchalantly. His tone clearly indicating exactly what he thought of Dean's order on that.

"You could have gotten yourself killed," Dean continued, not happy with his brother's blatant disregard for his say in what was clearly a closed topic.

"I didn't," Sam countered as he turned his attention back to the newspaper in his lap.

Ignoring his brother's short answer, Dean continued, "And you shot her."

"She was a smart ass." He was no way going to apologize for killing the despiteful demon and possibly saving some poor sob from selling his soul.

Giving Sam a glance, Dean continued with a hint of hope in his voice, "So what, does that mean I'm out of my deal?"

"Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean?" If killing the Crossroads Demon had resulted in Dean getting out of his deal, Sam would have gladly share the news with his brother even if it meant Dean giving him grief about taking unnecessary risks. "No, Someone else holds the contract."

"Who?" asked Dean as he guided the Impala to continue following VA-234 S.

"She wouldn't say," Sam replied impatiently. He wished Dean would just drop it already.

"Well, we should find out who," Dean pushed. "Of course, our best lead would be the Crossroads Demon. Oh wait a minute," he said; his voice colored with sarcasm.

"It's not funny," gritted Sam. His grip on the flashlight he was using to read the newspaper tightened.

"No, it's not. It was a stupid freakin' risk, and you shouldn't have done it!" He knew yelling at Sam wasn't going to do any good, but damn it! He was going to keep his brother safe!

"I shouldn't have done it?" Sam retorted, pissed that Dean would think that he was just going let his brother die without doing everything he could to stop it. "You're my brother, Dean. No matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it!"

Letting his words hang in the air, Sam turned away from his brother and back to the newspaper in front of him.

Deciding that now would be a good time to end this conversation and change the topic, Dean started, "So … tell me about this job?" He felt bad pushing Sam into this conversation and then avoiding it, but no way was he going to have a chick flick moment with his brother.

Sam snorted. It was just like Dean to not be all "touchy-feely" like he would call it. Focusing back on the story he was just reading, Sam began, "Six unexplainable disturbing murders occurred in Dumfries, Virginia in the last nine days, and one victim still missing. Police has no idea how the intruder is able to get into the victims' home undetected. One man is still missing; his wife was killed yesterday when he was taken."

"Now, are you sure that this is our kind of crazy and not the human kind?" Dean asked as he led the Impala to take a left onto Van Buren Road. He could never understand crazy humans. Crazy killer monsters and demons he could deal with fine. He had been dealing with them since Mom was killed. Crazy killer humans like the Benders on the other hand...well, they were just too crazy for him.

"I'm pretty sure it's our kind of crazy, Dean. These people were taken from their homes with no signs of forced entries. It's like they just disappeared, and then their remains showed up three days later in trash bags." Flipping through some of his other notes, Sam continued, "And about a week before the killings, there were all these signs. Odd weather patterns. Local crop failures. Electrical storms."

"All the signs of a demon coming to town. So why weren't we called on this earlier?" God, he hated demons, and he hated being one step behind them even more.

"Well, the disappearances and killings started on the 21st, and we were dealing Snow White in Maple Springs around that time. Bobby called another hunter who said he was going to take care of it; only he got delayed by a haunting in Maryland." Call him a hypocrite, but Sam hated arrogant hunters who didn't ask for help until it was too late. They were almost as destructive as any of the monsters they took down. He agreed with Dean; they should have been called on this earlier. And even if they were tied up with that fairy tale haunting, Bobby should have taken care of this demon himself instead of trusting some stranger to do it.

"Fine, we can't cry over spilled milk," Dean grunted as he turned right onto Old Stage Road. "We're here now. What else does that paper you've been hugging say?"

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother before answering, "The local police called in the Feds today. Which is bad for us because we're still on the FBI's Most Wanted list. The good news is that the locals won't think of it for a second if two more FBI agents show up asking them questions. We'll blend right in with the crowd." _Maybe having the Feds around wouldn't be so bad after all_, thought Sam.

"Does it say who the Feds are?" It was best to be prepared and to know who their supposed colleagues might. It wouldn't do at all for them to be waving around FBI badges only to find out at the last second that they would have to be "partners" with _Henriksen_. Yeah, the crazy Special Agent would probably kill the Winchester brothers right there and then.

"Umm...the paper said that the BAU came into town this morning." Sam nearly missed his brother's shocked expression as he continued, "Now, the BAU stands for the Beha-"

"Behavioral Analysis Unit, yeah, I know who they are," Dean interrupted, ignoring the weird look Sam gave him. "We can't go in posing as Feds. The BAU is a close-knit unit of six Special Agents. They all know each other, and they introduce themselves to the locals as a team. They'll be able spot us as fakes a mile away."

"Well, alright then. We can go in as Homeland Security," suggested Sam as the Impala made a left onto the parking lot of Days Inn Dumfries. "And you want to tell me what you know here?"

"No, not Homeland Security. We need to keep a low profile. Reporters, we'll pose as reporters. We're technically not breaking any laws pretending to be reporters." Dean answered as he got out of the Impala. "Let's go check in. We can start snooping around tomorrow before we meet up with Bobby when he gets to town. I'm tired, and that was a long drive. Let's go, Sammy," said Dean as he headed toward the reception area, choosing to ignore Sam's second question.

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**AN: **Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited the last chapter, specifically **Namewinka**, **Guest #2**, **Guest #3**, **Guest #4**, **limiodarhab**, and **bokaormur** since I can't PM you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much. Don't be shy to leave a comment or review in the box below! :D


	3. The More The Merrier

Supernatural X Criminal Minds

**Author's Note:**AU after Supernatural episode "Bedtime Stories" in Season 3 and Criminal Minds episode "7 Seconds" in Season 3. It will include the beginning of Supernatural episode "Red Sky at Morning" and Criminal Minds episode "About Face," though in a different context. David Rossi is also a member of the current BAU team, returning three episodes ago in "Scared to Death" instead of in "About Face."

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any aspects of Criminal Minds or Supernatural. All copyrights go to their respective companies and entities. All OCs, thoughts, and musings, when not quoted, are mine though.

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_**Chapter 3**_  
_**Now:**_

_**Dumfries, Virginia. October 31, 2007**_

When a blonde woman with funky orange glasses entered the Police Station that morning, the young officer on duty at the reception area couldn't help but did a double take as he saw her. Despite all the craziest that had been going on in Dumfries for the past ten days, the appearance of the woman in front of him still managed to startle him. She wasn't necessarily bad-looking per se; it was really her eccentricity that shocked him. She was wearing a colorful flowery shirt and a bright orange skirt with braid-like patterns at the hems. As if all those colors weren't enough, the woman in front of him also had on a bright red-orange cardinal and a necklace with orange beads the size of gumdrops. Her blonde hair was done up in a ponytail, but that didn't stop her from donning a thick apricot headband with a big amber color marigold on top. In her arms, she held a vibrant Laurex Twinkle Orange laptop sleeve. Looking around the reception area, she finally noticed the young officer in uniform on duty.

"Good morning!" called the mysterious guest with a strained smile as she approached the counter where the officer sat. "Officer Teddy Merritt," she continued as she glanced down at his name tag, "my name is Penelope Garcia. I'm with the FBI. Is Agent Hotchner or Agent Morgan here?"

Snapping out of his observations, Officer Merritt returned this new agent's smile before directing her toward her team. "Um... G-d morning. Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and the rest of your team are already here. Just go down that hallway there." He pointed to the lit hallway to his left as he continued, "And turn right into the second conference room."

Giving Officer Merritt a nod of thanks, Garcia hurried down the hallway to her team. When she arrived at the empty conference room that they had turned into their temporary command center, she was glad to find the entire team all present. What she needed to tell them, she didn't want to tell more than once.

Morgan was the first to notice her presence as he looked up from the file on Robert Jackson he was reading. Surprised, he asked, "Baby Girl, what are you doing here?" His question alerted the rest of the team to the arrival of their technical analyst.

"Garcia?" questioned Hotch as he moved toward her. "Is there something wrong?"

"You're all here; you're all okay," said Garcia, relief colored her voice as a real smile graced her face at last that day, no matter how small of a smile.

"Why wouldn't we be okay? Garcia, are you alright?" asked JJ as she set down the photos she was looking at and approached Garcia. She was completely taken off guard when her friend suddenly pulled her into a firm one-armed hug with Garcia's laptop smushed between them. The action was so unexpected that it sent the rest of the team on to their feet. "Penelope," JJ tried again when Garcia finally pulled away, "what is wrong? Are you alright?"

Garcia moved toward the round table and set down her laptop before turning to face her team. "I'm fine. I thought you guys were the one in trouble."

"Why would we be in trouble?" questioned Reid as he, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi settled back in their seats.

"Well, after you guys called me yesterday afternoon about finding out if there were more victims who had died with their throat slashed, I tried calling you back that evening and this morning, and no one answered," Garcia explained. The calm and relief that she had earlier once she had seen that the entire team was alright were replaced with frustration and worry again. "I tried calling the station, the inn where you are staying, even the Landromat next door. No one picked up. It was like some weird electrical interference or something, and I was freaking out! So I got down here as quickly as I could...and you're all alright! Which I am happy about, but now I feel all silly," she finished, looking embarrassed as she picked her laptop back up and held it as if it were a shield.

"We can check that out later, the electrical interferences," said Rossi. "Now, what do you have for us? Were there previous victims?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes," replied Garcia as she took a seat at the conference table and started up her laptop. She also connected her laptop to the projector in the room so the rest of the team could see the information she found. "So I ran a nationwide search for cases where the victims were killed with their throat slashed after your call." Her hands flew across the keyboard as she called up the information she had found. "Now, imagine my surprise when the first case that was brought to my attention happened in 1972. Eight nuns were killed when their throats were slashed in St. Mary's Convent in Ilchester, Maryland that year."

"1972? That's 32 years ago! That means the Unsub would possibly be around his mid to late 50s by now!" exclaimed Prentiss, shocked that their profile of the Unsub's age could possibly be so off. The team had contended that the Unsub is a white male in his mid to late 20s, around the same age as the victims so far.

"Well, this does add to the theory of a team, possibly a father-son," commented Rossi. "What else did you find, Garcia?"

"Well, after that, nothing until 2006. In January 2006, a driver was found dead on a deserted highway in California with his throat slashed. A John Doe showed up in a Chicago morgue with the same wounds a month later. Eww, now that's just awful." Pictures of the two John Does popped up on the projector screen as the team examined their wounds. Much like Elizabeth Jackson and Hunter Bradley, the EM reports for both men reported a single cut through the throat that severed the carotid arteries and the trachea, leaving both to bleed to death.

"And then nothing again until November," continued Garcia. "In November 2006, a pastor, Jim Murphy was found with his throat slashed in his church in Blue Earth, Minnesota, severed carotid arteries and trachea, left to bleed to death." A photo of a middle aged man in black priest clothing with his throat slashed as he laid in front of an altar appeared. "That same week, a Caleb Jager turned up dead with the same wounds in Lincoln, Nebraska." A photo of a younger man with a buzz cut appeared. He was tied to a wooden chair, and his lifeless blue eyes stared at the ceiling.

While JJ and Hotch were busy adding all of the new information up on a second whiteboard they had brought into the room, Rossi was jotting down notes in his little black notepad. Garcia paused for a second to drink a sip of water from the plastic cup Morgan handed her before continuing. "A month later in December, a Master Sergeant Mark Hosea was found with his throat slashed in his truck in Rivergrove, Oregon. It was thought that his passenger, Duane Tanner, was his killer, but no one could locate him. That one was strange. Apparently everyone in Rivergrove had disappeared in that same week. The town was practically a ghost town." Photos of Hosea in his truck appeared on the projector screen along with that of Rivergrove, Oregon.

"The last victim I was able to find with the same wounds was Steve Wandell. He was killed in February of this year in Otter Creek, Iowa. Now, all of the murders I just told you are still unsolved," concluded Garcia as she turned away from her laptop, unable to look at the gruesome bloody photos any longer.

"We were right when we said that whoever our Unsub is, he certainly has experience, but I didn't expect him to leave a whole string of bodies behind going back to 1972," commented Reid with a grim face.

"Is possible that our Unsub here could be Duane Tanner, Mark Hosea's suspected killer?" Prentiss threw the question out on the floor, hoping someone might have an answer.

"See, that's the thing sweetie, I can't find Duane Tanner anywhere," answered Garcia. "He and the rest of Rivergrove just disappeared. The only reason Duane Tanner even came up as a suspect for the Hosea's murder was because his prints were all over Mark Hosea's body and truck."

Even with the new information, Morgan couldn't help but think that they still didn't get anywhere on their case. Instead, now they had thirteen more bodies with their unknown perpetrator still at large. I need some air though Morgan as he gave Hotch a nod before heading out the door.

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**_At The Same Time With The Winchesters_**

Music blared from the radio as Sam shot up from his bed. "Dean, seriously?" he shouted as he ran a hand through his tousled hair.

Dean Winchester walked out of the bathroom fully dressed with a smirk as he saw his brother's scrunched up face. "And the zombie lives!" Dean joked. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. We're meeting Bobby at the Montclair Diner across the street. He's waiting for you to get your arse out of bed," said Dean as he threw the towel he was using to dry his hair at Sam.

"Wait, Bobby's here alright?" asked Sam as got up from his bed and headed for the bathroom. "Thought we're supposed to meet up with him later, after we got some personal insight on the case ourselves."

"Yeah, well, he got in earlier, and since you sleep like a coma patient, we're going do some poking around with Bobby later," stated Dean as Sam emerged from the bathroom. "Well, that was quick. Didn't need your bubble bath, Princess?" mocked Dean with a smirk.

"Shut up," grumbled Sam as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door with Dean right behind him.

With the Impala parked outside, Sam and Dean entered Montclair Diner and looked around for any sign of the man that had long since become their surrogate father. Not finding hide or hair of Bobby Singer, the boys were about to head out again when a figure in the corner booth waved at them. Deciding to see who it was, Sam and Dean headed toward the stranger. As they got closer, suspicion and trepidation were replaced by amusement and shocked. Gone were the ragged oil-stained jeans, the patched up sleeveless vest, and the crummy worn baseball cap that were the customary clothing of Bobby Singer. In their place instead was a well-tailored black suit complete with polished black shoes. His hair was washed, brushed, and gelled back. Even his shaggy beard was trimmed.

Tired of being stared at like a zoo animal, the older man grumbled, "Well, are you idjits gonna sit down or do I have to pull out your chairs for you? Took you long enough to get here."

"Sorry, Bobby," said Dean as the two took their seats. "Princess here overslept," he explained as he jerked his thumb toward his brother.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," continued Bobby. "Now, tell me again why I got dressed up in this monkey suit only for us to not go in as FBI?" His face seemed to be in a permanent frown as he loosened his tie yet again.

"Sorry, Bobby," started Sam only to be cut off by the older hunter.

"Will the two of ya quit apologizing and just explain to me the problem?" he snapped impatiently.

"The BAU is in town," said Dean as he looked Bobby in the eyes.

There was a beat of silence before Bobby replied, "Oh." As if the only explanation he needed were those five words.

Sam waited for Bobby to say something else, to ask who the BAU were, to question why they still can't go in as FBI, but he waited in vain. Bobby remained silent, and Sam, unable to stand being kept out of the loop any longer, spoke out at last. "Alright, what's the big secret that I don't know?" Sam demanded. "What's the big deal with the BAU? What do the two of you know that I don't?"

"There's a lot of things you don't know, Sammy," mocked Dean with a smirk as he turned to his brother.

"Dean, seriously. Bobby?" demanded Sam with a frown.

The older hunter looked at both brothers before answering, "Nothing, Sam. Nothing important. Just let it go." And while Sam begrudgingly did as Bobby asked and focused back on the job, he didn't missed the glance Bobby traded with Dean.

"Fine," said Sam. "Whatever. So Bobby, you'll check out the Police Station while Dean and I visit the morgue?" he suggested.

"Uhh...I think I'm gonna check out the station, Sammy. You and Bobby visit the morgue," Dean contradicted as he shared another glance with Bobby.

"What, are you kidding? You want to walk right into a police station full of Feds?" exclaimed Sam, pissed at whatever Bobby and Dean were keeping from him.

Dean gave his brother an eye roll as he got up and scooted out of the booth. "I'll be fine, Sammy. Relax." He gave his brother a smirk before continuing. " I'll see you two later. Remember, I'm James McGovney, and you're Kirk Bonham." He directed the last statement at Sam before heading out the door, completely dismissing Sam's objection at the change of plan.

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_**Police Department**_

Morgan had just headed back inside when the doors behind him opened again, letting in the cool October breeze. Turning around, he was hit with a sense of déjà vu as he stared at the man in front of him. Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that somehow he'd met the stranger before.

With short-cropped light brunette hair, hazel eyes, and similar facial features to the recent male victims, he could have been related to them. With a permanent smirk on his face, the stranger approached Morgan. Breaking the silence, he greeted the agent. "Good morning. I'm James McGovney, reporter for my blog. I was wondering if you could answer some questions about the recent string of murders here in Dumfries."

The question snapped Morgan out of his musing, and a small frown appeared on his face. "This is an open investigation. No comment," responded Morgan. He was just about to turn around and head back to his team when the reporter stopped him again.

"I heard that you found something strange at the each of the crime scenes, sulfur. What do you think it means?" questioned McGovney with a hopeful hint in his voice as if he didn't really know that, but was making a lucking guess.

"Like I said before, no comment," reiterated Morgan, yet he knew that McGovney had gotten the answer he was looking for when his permanent smirk got wider, and he backed off.

"Well, thank you for your time, Agent," said McGovney as he turned and headed out of the station.

"Who was that?" asked Reid as he came up from behind Morgan. The older agent had gone out for air a while ago, and when he hadn't come back, Reid had volunteered to look for him. He was surprised to find Morgan talking with a stranger in black leather jacket who looked eerie familiar.

"Just a reporter," said Morgan as he turned to the younger agent behind him. "What's up? Did we get some new info?"

"No," answered Reid, distracted. "Who did you say that was?" Reid asked again as he headed outside, hoping to catch another look at the stranger.

"Reid," called Morgan as he went after him. Stopping next to his teammate outside of the station, Morgan asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm pretty sure that was Dean Winchester you were talking to," stated Reid as he looked back at Morgan.

"What? The one wanted for the St. Louis murder and the Milwaukee bank robbery? Are you sure?" asked Morgan as he searched the parking lot for the telltale sign of the black Impala the Winchester brothers drove.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," said Reid as he headed back inside and toward the officer sitting in front of the security screen. "Excuse me, can you run the tape from a few minutes ago here in the reception area?" As the images raced across the screen in front of him, Reid's eyes flew from side to side as he searched the faces in front of him for that of Dean Winchester. Spotting his target, Reid turned to the officer next to him, "S-stop right there. No, back a little bit. Yeah, right there."

Beside him, Morgan cursed, "Damn it! That was Winchester! Right in front of me, and I'd let him get away."

Reid wasn't listening though as he hurried back into the conference room where the rest of the team was waiting. "Hey guys, the Winchester brothers are in town," he said. His statement sent the room into a frenzy as Reid wondered if maybe they'd caught a break after all, and these were the Unsubs they were looking for, barred the murders in 1972.

"Are you sure, Reid?" asked Hotch.

"Yeah," Reid replied. "He introduced himself to Morgan as a reporter." Moving to where Garcia was sitting, Reid asked, "Garcia, can you find out where and when...uh." Reid turned to Morgan for help.

"James McGovney," Morgan supplied. "He introduced himself as James McGovney." As Garci entered the information in her laptop, Morgan ran a hand over his face, frustrated. "I can't believe I didn't notice it. McGovney was the original bassist for Metallica. These guys are known for using aliases that include names of famous rock musicians."

"Even the best makes mistakes, Morgan," Prentiss tried to comfort him. "And the Winchesters are good. They've been able to avoid the agent sent after them for nearly a year."

Whatever Morgan was going to say was forgotten when Garcia exclaimed, "Got it! A James McGovney and a Kirk Bonham checked into room 24 at the Days Inn on Old Stage Rd yesterday night."

"Wait," said Rossi. "If they just checked in yesterday, they can't be the Unsubs we're looking for."

"Maybe not," replied Hotch with a frown. "But they are fugitives, and we should find out what they are doing here. We don't want to let them know that we're on to them so let's go over there without sirens and hopefully ambush them." With that, Hotch walked out the doors with Morgan close behind him. Rossi and Reid followed them not far behind. As Prentiss was heading out the door, she ran in JJ who had left the room earlier when Reid went looking for Morgan.

"Hey," said JJ. "Where's everyone going?"

"Uh...We're picking up some suspects from Days Inn. Are you coming?" Prentiss asked.

Seeing Garcia looking uncomfortable in the empty conference room by herself, JJ replied, "Nah, I'm gonna stay with Garcia."

"Alright, see you later then," said Prentiss as she hurried after the others.

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**_Days Inn_**

Hotch checked his watch again as he waited in the reception area of Days Inn with Rossi while Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss waited for the Winchester brothers to come back in the two rooms on either side of Room 24. The purr of an engine drew Hotch's attention to the window next to him as a black classic Chevy Impala pulled into an empty spot in the parking lot. Turning to Rossi and bringing his hand mike to his mouth, Hotch said, "Everyone get ready. They're coming up. Wait for them to open their door before making the arrest."

As the Winchester brothers made their way to their room, Hotch caught bits and pieces of their conversation through the others' communication line.

"Well, at least we know for sure...demon...sulfur." Sam Winchester's voice could be heard through the comms.

**_Sam's and Dean's POV_**

"Well, at least we know for sure that a demon is in town with those traces of sulfur we found," said Sam as he made his way to their motel room with Dean behind him.

"Yeah, with those traces of sulfur Ifound," countered Dean with his signature smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's immaturity before continuing. "Yes, Dean, that you found. How could I ever doubt you? You did great at the police station. No one is even after us," Sam mocked.

"Don't patronize me," snapped Dean before he stuck his tongue out at his little brother.

"Yeah, Dean. Real mature." said Sam as they passed by room 22. "What's strange though, is how similar the victims look to you and Jo. Whoever this demon is, he obviously has something against you." At his brother's unconcerned look, Sam continued with a frown, "That's not good, Dean. Especially with your deal."

"Dude, who knows how many demons I've pissed off," said Dean as he fiddled with the key into their room. Just as the lock clicked and as he turned the knob, the doors to either side of their room burst open, and shouts filled the air.

"Hands in the air! Hands in the air!" shouted the FBI agents storming out of rooms 22 and 26.

Dean almost hit himself in the head when the agent he had talked to earlier ordered him and Sam to face the wall as his two partners searched them. His mood didn't get any better when Sam grumbled next him, "Yeah, Dean. No one is after us."

**_BAU's POV_**

Prentiss almost laughed out loud when Dean Winchester snapped at his brother as she and Reid confiscated their handguns. The ride back to the station was uneventful as the Winchester brothers were kept separate with Dean in Hotch's and Rossi's van and Sam in hers, Morgan's, and Reid's van. As they led the brothers through the station, Prentiss almost missed JJ's face paled when she caught sight of the Winchesters before she disappeared.

JJ and Garcia had just stepped out of the conference room when Hotch entered the station with Rossi and Morgan behind him, leading Dean Winchester through in chains. At that moment, JJ felt as if a hole had just opened up and swallowed her underground. Everything and everyone else seemed so far away, and all she could hear was a buzzing in her ears. She didn't even hear Garcia when the other woman asked if she was alright before JJ hurried to the restroom. She didn't even wait for the door to close behind her before JJ's phone was out and a number was dialed. The few seconds that it took for her call to be answer seemed like an eternity to JJ. As soon as she heard the "hello" that she was waiting for, JJ didn't any waste time explaining the situation. "Hey, we have a problem. How fast can you get to the Dumfries Police Station?" Her call was done and her phone was stowed away when Prentiss came looking for her.

"Hey," greeted Prentiss. "You alright?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" answered JJ as headed back outside.

"You were looking pretty pale earlier," Prentiss said as she led the way to the interrogation room. "We got the Winchesters. Hey, has anyone gone in yet?" Prentiss asked Hotch as the two stopped in front of the interrogation room that held Dean Winchester.

"No, not yet. We're letting him sweat for a while," answered Hotch as they continued to watch the older Winchester through the one-way glass.

**_Dean's POV_**

They had put him and Sam into different interrogation rooms a while ago. He knew the FBI agents were watching him through the one-way glass. He wondered if she was on the other side as well and what was she thinking about right now see him again. He had got a glimpse of her as they marched him into the station before she disappeared. He had felt a rush of excitement and anticipation when he caught sight of her face earlier. Now, waiting for someone to walk through that door was killing him. Maybe someone had heard his thought because at the moment the door into the interrogation room opened.

"Well, about time," said Dean, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. As he looked up, Dean was taken off guard by the person who had just walked through the door.

"Hello, Dean," greeted the newcomer. "It's been a while."

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**AN: **Thank you to everyone who'd reviewed, favorited, and followed _Secrets of the Night_, specifically **winka** and **cjhtorchwood** since I can't private message you guys. Well, who do you think JJ called? And who just walked through the door? I hope you'd enjoyed this chapter, and I'll try to update again soon, but with the Olympics on, can't make any promises!


	4. Didn't See That Coming

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspects of Criminal Minds or Supernatural. All copyrights go to their respective companies and entities. All OCs, thoughts, and musings, when not quoted, are mine though. The Revenge Quote at the end is Homer's.

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**Chapter 4**  
_**Now:**_

_**October 31, 2007**_

Bobby Singer knew his luck was doomed the moment his wife's possession propelled him into the world of supernatural, but he had hoped that since he had survived longer than most hunters, he still had some form of good luck left. Maybe in some twisted sense he did when he received a call from someone he hadn't heard from in a while. "Hello," he answered as got out of his car.

"Hey Bobby, we have a problem. How fast can you get to the Dumfries Police Station?" asked Jennifer Jareau. She had stayed in contact with Bobby even after her break-up with Dean, and she was glad for that. Without Bobby to turn to, JJ wouldn't know how to handle seeing Dean again after so many years and the possibility of her case being supernatural related.

"I'm across the street -" was all Bobby got out before the call ended. It didn't take long for Bobby to hear JJ calling his name as he turned around.

"Bobby," greeted JJ as she gave him a quick hug. "Dean and Sam were just brought in by my team."

"Damn it! Those idjits!" exclaimed the elder hunter, frustrated.

JJ couldn't fault him for his frustration since she felt the same. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't even know you guys were in town until Dean was brought in earlier."

Bobby loosened the ridiculous tie he was still wear as he let out a frustrated sigh. "Alright, we have to figure out how to get them out of there before we go after the demon."

"Demon?" asked JJ, shocked before deciding that it wasn't important right now. They had bigger problems to deal with. "But how are we going to get them out?"

Bobby scratched his head as he thought about it. "Is there some way you could have them escape, maybe on their way to the restroom or something? At least one of them?"

"Bobby, it's a police station with some of the best agents in the FBI present," said JJ. "This is not some show where the authorities are incompetent." Her brows furrowed as she stood with her hands on her hips, daring him to say otherwise. When he didn't, JJ glanced back across the street toward the station. "Look, I got to head back. Just keep in touch and I'll call you when I can get them out."

Bobby had to settle for that as he watched JJ headed back to where the boys he had long since considered his sons were kept.

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FBI Special Agent Victor Henriksen had dedicated his entire life to his country. For nearly 20 years, he had been a loyal soldier, yet the only thing that he had gotten for all his pain and effort were a string of angry ex-wives and an empty apartment to come home to. When he was handed the Winchesters case, Henriksen knew that it was going to be his career changer. It was going to give him the rewards he deserved: respect, appreciation, and hopefully a better pension. It wasn't that he needed any rewards, having the honor to serve his country was enough. He was satisfied with just that, but it would be nice to have something to look forward to when he retired. Henriksen had thought that the Winchesters case was going to be his just reward. He had no way of knowing that it was going to ruin him, that his career would spiral so completely out of control. He would not go down as the guy who lost two of the most notorious serial killers in history _**twice**_!

The humming vibration from his right brought Henriksen out of his musings as he reached for his cell. "Henriksen," he answered.

"You'll never guess who just got booked in Dumfries, Virginia 20 minutes ago," said his partner Calvin Reidy on the other side of the line.

"Winchesters," stated Henriksen as he shot up on his feet. He was not going to lose them now, not again! "Reidy, meet me down in the parking lot, now!"

"Already there and waiting," came the reply before Henriksen hung up, grabbed his badge and gun, and headed to meet his partner.

A trip from Quantico to Dumfries normally took around thirteen to fifteen minutes; Henriksen and Reidy got there in under 10 minutes. Just before they entered the station, however, Reidy pulled his partner to the side. "I didn't get to tell you earlier," started Reidy, "but another team of FBI is already here. They're the ones who made the collared."

"What does it matter?" said Henriksen as he pulled away. "The Winchesters are mine." He didn't get far before Reidy stopped him again.

"You can't just bully yourself into this one, Henriksen. They're the BAU, and they're here on a case," Reidy warned, used to his partner's grumpy moods and apparent rudeness. But Henriksen barely spared his partner a glance before entering the station and demanding to speak to the officer in charge.

xxxxxxx

At the sound of the door opening and a pair of footsteps approaching him, Dean tried to appear as nonchalant as possible as he said, "Well, about time." As he looked up, Dean was taken off guard by the person who had just walked through the door. What she said next confused him even more.

"Hello, Dean," greeted the newcomer. "It's been a while."

Dean's brows furrowed as he took in the woman in front of him. She was maybe a few of years his senior, not much more. Her navy blue uniform didn't hide her form like he thought it would. Instead, it brought out her curves and hugged her figures quite nicely. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a bun, giving her a professional look that was somewhat marred by her impish smirk as she took in his confused expression. Dean racked his brain, yet he was unable to recall ever meeting this stranger in front of him.

"Oh, come on Dean. Surely you haven't forgotten me have you?" asked the woman as she sashayed toward him. "You did, after all, threw me out of a warehouse nearly two years ago, sent me to Hell, and killed my father."

Dean's face hardened as he growled, "Meg." He struggled against his cuffs, wanting to do something to the demon in front of him, but it was useless.

"Give the man a prize!" mocked Meg as she moved behind Dean, trailing her hands across his shoulders and ignoring him as he tried to move away.

"You're the one killing those people. Why?" asked Dean.

Meg moved to the other side of the table opposite Dean and gave a him a little smirk. "Well, duh, Dean. For revenge and for you of course. All those people died because of you, Dean," she taunted. Seeing Dean's tensed posture only amused her even more as she leaned close to whisper into his ear. "Oh, and Dean, what happened to them is what awaits you in Hell, _every single day for all of eternity_," she hissed. She gave a little laugh as Dean's face darkened and his jaw clenched tight. Meg gave his hand one final pat before turning to leave.

Before she could do so however, the interrogation room door opened with Hotch and Henriksen on the other side. "Oh, hello Captain Wards," greeted Hotch as he stepped back for Meg to leave the room before closing the door again. "I didn't know you were in there."

"Oh, I just wanted to know if he was the one killing my people," Meg replied innocently. She quickly turned to Henriksen and changed the subject before Hotch could reply. "Who's this?"

"Captain Wards, this is Agent Victor Henriksen of the FBI. Agent Henriksen, Captain Wards," Hotch introduced. "Agent Henriksen is the one the Bureau sent after Dean Winchester and his brother." he explained.

"Ma'am,"greeted Henriksen curtly with a nod, clearly not in the mood for small talks. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Winchester now," he said, moving to enter the room.

"If you will excuse us, Captain Wards," said Hotch as he followed Henriksen into the interrogation room.

Meg gave them both a polite nod before a devious smile appeared on her face as she disappeared from the station.

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While everyone's attention was focused on Dean Winchester, Hotch, and Henriksen, JJ made her way to the cell that held Sam Winchester. She hesitated as she thought about what she was about to do. If this didn't work out, it could blow up in her face in the end, but if she didn't do this, then more people could get hurt. Steeling her resolve, JJ entered the unguarded holding area. Once she reached Sam's cell, JJ realized that there was no turning back as she fiddled with key in her hand. Sam must had heard her coming because he was on his feet when she came into view.

"Where is Dean?" was the first thing Sam said when he caught sight of the blonde FBI agent. She didn't say anything as she moved closer to the cell, putting her hands on the bars separating them. A tiny ding could be heard as the agent seemed to place something on the bars.

"Bobby is probably still across the street," JJ began, ignoring Sam's previous question and his confused look. "Wait about 30 seconds after I leave; then take the back door out of here." Sam looked like he was about to interrupt, but JJ kept going. "I'll try to find a way to get Dean out later, but you need to get out of here and get the demon that's causing this mess." As JJ turned to leave, she swore she heard Sam muttered "Christo?" under his breath, trying to figure out if _she_ was the demon. If the situation hadn't been so seriously messed up, she would have laughed.

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"Dean Winchester," began Henriksen smugly before he was interrupted by Dean.

"What do you want?" snapped Dean. From across the room, Hotch could feel his anger rolling off him in overpowering waves. He briefly wondered what had gone on between Dean Winchester and Captain Wards. Hotch was brought out of his musings when Henriksen continued.

"To gloat, of course," replied the darker agent as he placed his hands in his pockets. "You're as good as dead, Winchester. I'm going to personally accompany you to the Supermax and make sure you rot in a dark cell for the rest of your life. You're never going to see Sam again."

Dean barely spared Henriksen a glance before turning toward Hotch. "Are you going to play 'good cop'?" His tone still colored with anger and distrust.

"I'm not playing anything," said Hotch as he pulled up a seat across from Dean. "I know you didn't kill anyone here in Dumfries, and I don't think you did any of the serious crimes that you are accused of." Hotch turned a blind eye to Dean's disbelief look and Henriksen's glare as he continued. "I think you and your brother really believe that you are helping people. Help me now to stop this killer, and maybe I can help you."

"How?" asked Dean, appearing for the first time since Hotch entered the room to be willing to cooperate.

"Why should that matter?" interjected Henriksen, annoyed that this agent _Hotchner_ was interfering with _his_ case.

"So innocent people being tortured and killed doesn't matter to you?" asked Dean with a scoff. "Wow, man, that's quite a partner you've picked up," Dean said to Hotch as he looked away from Henriksen.

"He's not my partner," Hotch clarified, somehow secretly glad that he was not connected to Henriksen in anyway except for the country they served. "My team and I need your help. You and your brother know who is doing this. Help us and I can help you in return."

Hotch reached into his breast pocket and took out his wallet. He quickly removed his business card and replaced his wallet back into his pocket before turning back to Dean, ignoring Henriksen all the while. "Here is my card. I have connection in the Justice Department, and I can probably get most of the charges against you and your brother drop if you willing to help us."

"Why would you need to do that? Why help a murderer?" threw in Henriksen, still irked by Dean's earlier comment and a lack of defense from Hotch.

"Yeah, why?" questioned Dean.

"Because unlike Agent Henriksen, my team and I also take into account what is not obvious when we look at each case. You and Sam have no motives to commit any of the murders you are accused of in St. Louis, Baltimore, and Milwaukee. Not only that, you arrived at each of those cities after the killings have already started. What's more, all of the surviving victims swore up and down that the two of you had saved them. Now, one or two cases of those might be explained by Stockholm syndrome, but it's something else when every single one of your 'victims' claim otherwise," Hotch continued, ignoring Henriksen as the other agent got up to stand by the door with his arms crossed in front of his chest in a defensive position.

"Some would say that you and Sam suffer from antisocial personality disorder. Only the problem to that is you're not characterized by a profound disregard for the rights of others. You respect each other, and you especially, respect your father. Individuals with antisocial personality disorder lack a conscience and show no remorse for the harm they cause, but you and Sam really believe you are helping others. You do have a conscience, and you are capable of remorse, guilt, and shame from what I gathered from those that had crossed path with the two of you. This means you're not psychopaths even though there are others who might think so because the two of you are very deceptive and tend to lie continuously, and you believe that you are mankind's protectors from the supernatural."

"Protectors, right," Henriksen scoffed, but Hotch barely spared him a glance as he continued.

"You're not sociopaths either. Sociopaths will never take the blame for anything they have done to anyone, no matter if it is family or friend, and they have no room for love in their life. You do, at least from what can be seen through the relationship you and your brother have.

"That being the case, some would make the argument that you and Sam suffer from paranoid schizophrenia with your claims of fighting the supernatural. Some would say that all of that are really just delusions and that they're all in your mind, except the chances of you and your brother having the same delusions are very unlikely. There is also no medical history of schizophrenia occurring in your family until very recently with the claims that your father, your brother, and you are making. Your father's claims and his fight against the supernatural started after your mother's death, when he was 34. Yet, schizophrenia typically begins in late adolescence or early adulthood. The chance of your father actually developing schizophrenia then, while not impossible, is rare."

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he looked up at Hotch in disbelief, not really understanding everything the agent just said, because really, to be honest, he did just threw out a bunch of psychology terms that were better suited if they were directed at Sam. Although, Dean was not complaining if this guy was really claiming to be on his side. With a chuckle, he asked, "Are you a shrink or a cop?"

With a small smile, Hotch answered, "Well, I'm an FBI profiler, so I guess I'm a little of each."

Before anyone could say anything else however, Prentiss bursted through the door. Her face paled and drawn. "Hotch, JJ's missing...and so is Sam Winchester. You've got to see this...and it's probably a good idea to bring Dean Winchester along."

Hotch barely registered Henriksen's protest as he uncuffed Dean from the table and led him after Prentiss. He was a bit surprised when he met no resistance from the older Winchester brother, but Hotch figured Dean was probably just as worry for his brother as he was for JJ. "What happened?" asked Hotch when he caught up with Prentiss and Garia at the end of the hall.

"I went looking for JJ after the silence in the conference room got to me, but I couldn't find her," started Garcia as she fiddled with her hands.

"JJ disappeared earlier after the Winchester brothers were brought in so when Garcia couldn't find her again, Morgan had Officer Merritt checked the security tapes," continued Prentiss. By then, the group had stopped in front of the security screen where Reid, Morgan, Rossi, Officer Merritt, and Henriksen's partner Agent Reidy were gathered.

When Morgan saw that everyone was present, he turned to Officer Merritt. "Can you play back the clip you just showed us?"

The group watched as JJ entered the station from the back door, taking care to slide what appeared to be a pebble between the doors to keep them open. They watched as she made her way to the holding cell where Sam was kept, unaware of the man following her. Hotch, the only member of the team who hadn't seen the security video yet, furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched JJ's conversation with Sam Winchester before she left him the key to his cell. That confusion quickly turned to anger and apprehension as he watched the figure who had followed JJ earlier confronted her and knocked her out.

Garcia gripped Morgan's arm in fear at what happened next even though she had already seen the tape. The group watched as the image of Sam Winchester entered the screen before the JJ's attacker could escape. Hotch and Henriksen were taken by surprise when before Sam could do anything to help JJ, he was slammed against the wall by an invisible force. The only sign that the attacker had anything to do with it was his outstretched hand directed at Sam.

"Damn it! There are two of them!" exclaimed Dean to the surprise of those present as they watched Sam being slammed into the opposite wall with a flick of a wrist from the attacker.

"What do you mean there are two of them? And how did Chief Forker do that?" interrupted Officer Merritt, unable to keep silent any longer as he watched his superior knocked out Sam Winchester and left a bloody message on the wall before disappearing out the back door with both Sam and JJ on his shoulders.

As everyone turned to look at Dean, he let out an exasperated sigh as he fiddled with his cuffs. "Your Chief Forker is possessed," he stated. "And so is the lady cop."

His statement sparked a frenzy as Merritt asked, "Possessed by what?" the same time Reid protested, "JJ's not possessed!"

"By demons," Dean deadpanned. "And of course, JJ's not possessed. I'm talking about that lady cop who was in the interrogation room earlier," Dean clarified, although the look on his face suggested that he thought Reid was an idiot for even thinking that _JJ_ might be possessed.

While a look of embarrassment crossed over Reid's face, Hotch turned to Dean with a look of disbelief. "You're saying that both the Chief and the Captain of the Dumfries Police Department are possessed by demons?"

"There's no such things as demons," added Prentiss; her voice colored with suspicion as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah?" Dean turned toward Prentiss. "Then, how do you explained what just happened?"

"What does it matter?" interrupted Henriksen. "It's probably just some ridiculous ruse you and your brother are pulling to worm your way out of jail. That being said," Henriksen continued, turning to face Hotch. "I'm taking over this investigation. It's obvious that your agent there is involved with the Winchesters somehow. And besides, I have priority on the Winchesters case."

Hotch wasn't a top prosecutor and a Unit Chief for nothing as he stared down Henriksen. "I think not," he countered. "A series of homicides and two serial killers take precedent over any other case you have. And if you want to pull rank on me, might I remind you, Special Agent Henriksen, that as a Senior Supervisory Special Agent and a Unit Chief, I outrank you." His tone was icy enough to freeze even the hottest fires in hell. Rossi stood behind Hotch to show his support for his teammate. His stone cold glare directed toward Henriksen could put even Medusa to shame.

"If you guys are done with your little cockfight," interjected Dean, "could we perhaps go take a look at that bloody message? Although, I gotta say dude, you totally showed him." Dean directed his last comment toward Hotch with a smile, not exactly wanting to offend and to possibly lose the one person who so far seemed to be on his side.

Hotch spared Dean a glance before leading his team, Henriksen, Reidy, and Dean to the hallway in front of the holding cells. As they studied the message in front of them, he couldn't help but wonder who else the Unsubs had killed to leave this bloody message behind since neither JJ nor Sam Winchester seemed to have any bleeding injuries on them earlier.

_"Revenge is sweeter far than flowing honey." Wouldn't you say, Dean? It's time to end what all started years ago._

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**AN**: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story.

This chapter was a killer. The only parts that was easy to write was Henriksen's first scene, Dean and Meg's talk, and Hotch's psych speech and his confrontation with Henriksen. I was totally able to put my AP Psych knowledge to use for that. :) Now you know the answers to the questions I asked last chapter. Although the answers here weren't what I had in mind when I was writing the questions. JJ was going to call her friend, an OC, for help, but that just left Bobby hanging and without anything to do while an extra character was added. He didn't like it very much so I changed that.

Dean's visitor on the other hand was complete surprise. It was always going to be Henriksen up until the moment when I was writing the scene. Meg just sneaked in, said she hadn't had a scene since the first chapter so I gave in. Beside, I rather like how that scene turned out.

I always wanted to write the confrontation scene between Hotch and Henriksen where Henriksen tried to pull one on Hotch only to be put in his place by our favorite Unit Chief. That turned out not too bad.

I hope you'd enjoyed this chapter. That being said, here comes the bad news, I'm starting school this week so this will be the only update for a while. No worries; I will update, just not soon.

There's a quote from an episode on Criminal Minds in this chapter, does anyone know what it is? Virtual Cookies for those who do! :D


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